


Concessions

by Bettybot (Lizbettywrites)



Series: The Ways They Said "I Love You" [8]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 23:25:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10729446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizbettywrites/pseuds/Bettybot
Summary: "You've gotta love yourself if you can ever love me." —Lifehouse, "Whatever It Takes"





	1. In a way I can't return

“I tried not to, Mags— _Magnus_ , I told myself it wasn’t going to pan out and you weren’t interested, but...”

“You—” His world had spun to a halt, and apparently so had his vocalizer. “You—” He couldn’t finish the sentence; he hated sentence fragments; why was this so hard?

“Yeah.” Swerve looked up at him from his place shrunk back into the visitor’s chair of his office. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Ultra Magnus sat down in his own chair with a heavy thump.

“Magnus? You okay? Okay, that’s probably a dumb question, it’s a lot to take in all at once and I probably shouldn’t have sprung it on you like this—”

Alerts and warnings scrolled across his internal display. Distantly, he was aware of Swerve attempting to run his mouth backward and return his words to the nonsensical void from whence they came.

“You know, Mags—Magnus—Mags, this was a bad idea. Sorry to bother you, sir! Won’t happen again, it’s just, see, um, Whirl put me up to it, just a harmless prank compared to what he usually gets up to, and this one means he has to pay his tab, so, you know, _anyway I’ll just be going now bye!_ ”

The door slid shut behind the fleeing minibot. Magnus continued to stare at the meticulously-ordered surface of his desk.

He was grateful for Swerve’s backtracking. Such a confession was unacceptable. He had duties to carry out, legislation to uphold, a captain to keep from blowing up the ship. Ultra Magnus could not be involved in any dalliances: it would besmirch his reputation.

Moreover, on a more personal note, Swerve did not know him well enough to be sure of… that. One drunken conversation would not change who he was—quite literally—inside. The minibot had no idea who Minimus was. Magnus could not tell him as a matter of contract. Even if, somehow, he found out, he would most likely be disappointed by the discovery.

He could not do that to Swerve, nor would he do it to himself.


	2. On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

The couch in front of the fountain made for a good place to just sit and think. True, thinking was the last thing they wanted to do—that was the whole point of this place—but Sheldon had some thinking to do nevertheless. They’d been dwelling on it for months.

They had tried not to get their hopes up for a favorable response. Really, they’d gone back and forth over even saying anything for longer. After Hedonia, it seemed like they had made a connection, and all those carefully-suppressed feelings had surged up. But they knew the risks. Rejection wasn’t supposed to hurt so much.

“But it did,” a mild voice said behind him.

Sheldon nodded and scooted over to make room on the couch for Ted. “How are you holding up?”

The priest just shrugged. Sheldon folded his arms and stared up at the clouds. Silence reigned until their introspection was rudely interrupted.

A wave of water cascaded over the back of the couch onto their heads.

“C’mon, you two, up and at ‘em! We’ve got a city to explore!”

“We made it, you dolt,” Sheldon huffed. “There’s nothing to explore.”

Jerry flopped onto the couch. “Where’s our sense of adventure?”

“It’s you,” Ted pointed out.

The comedian scratched his nose, making a face at them. “How come I’m all the fun stuff?”

“You’re not!” Sheldon burst out. “You’re the freak who messed things up with—it was your stupid idea to just walk in and—”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see how utterly out of our league he is?” Jerry wrung his hands as he spoke. “You think I wasn’t terrified to tell him? That I don’t regret not letting one of you handle it? He’d like you better, I know that much!”

Ted shook his head. “It’s not just you. It’s all of us. Together. It would have happened the same way.” He paused. “At least now we know for sure.”

“Know what? That he hates us? That he’s paralyzed with disgust at the thought alone?”

“Look at us!” Ted exclaimed. “We’re broken!”

“Worthless,” Jerry chimed in shakily.

Sheldon scowled. “Yeah. He wouldn’t want us no matter how we presented it.”

The three holoforms sighed in unison, and for a moment, their shapes shivered and were shot through with white light.

Then Jerry opened their big mouth. “You know what sounds good right now? Earth quest!”

“It’s just a distraction,” Ted objected.

“That’s the idea.” Sheldon stood up abruptly. “Let’s go to work. From now on, it’s wacky adventures and avoidable situations without consequences.”


	3. With a shuddering gasp

Velocity wouldn’t let Swerve go straight to his bar after surgery. She had ordered at least a full shift of bedrest to make sure the infection had been entirely flushed from his system.

All of which sucked because Swerve had so much to do! For one thing, he had a new drink idea, and for another, if he didn’t get out there soon, someone else would get to tell his epic story about Vos’—Agent 113’s—message! The thing had just been sitting in his shoulder, for crying out loud! Well, not too epic, since the information was proabably useless by now, but—

Someone knocked at his door, interrupting his internal monologue.

“Come on in!” he called, sending a command for the door to open. It was probably Skids, which was perfect because he could deliver the drink idea to Blue in the bar, and—

“I apologize for disturbing your rest,” Ultra Magnus began as he stepped inside.

Swerve couldn’t wave it away fast enough. “No worries, Mags, no worries! I’m really just hanging out, y’know, thinking and planning and stuff for when the doc lets me get back on my feet. You’re not interrupting anything.” He sat up in berth to see his guest better. “So, uh, what brings you here?” Bad question. Pity, most likely. “I’m fine, just so you know. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Nonetheless, I do worry,” Magnus replied. He looked around the hab suite with a lost expression.

Swerve caught on quickly. “Sorry I don’t have any chairs your size. That might work, though.” He pointed to the abandoned berth across the room. “It was Red’s. Kinda miss him now. Wasn’t the liveliest roommate, and I drove him crazy, but the company was nice.” Not acting less pathetic, smelt it! Wait. “You, uh, you worry about me?”

Magnus sat down on Red’s berth and folded his hands in his lap. “Yes. More, I fear, than you have been aware. In light of recent events, I wish that I had acted on that worry to pay closer attention to your state.”

“Wow. I… wow. That’s uh, that’s definitely new information.”

“Swerve, I—” Magnus stopped and vented again. “We are not as dissimilar as I once thought,” he said.

Swerve laughed aloud, perhaps more bitterly than he had intended. “Yeah, right. You’re way out of my league, Mags. Like I could ever be anywhere as…” Perfect? Amazing? Incredible? “... _you_ as you.”

Magnus stiffened. Scrap, he’d messed up again!

“That is precisely what I was referring to,” Magnus said. His hands made a creaking sound as he tightened his grip. “Self-worth.”

Swerve deflated. “Oh.” Did it have to be brought up so soon? Then again… “Wait. You too? Why?”

Magnus placed a hand over his chest. “I spent centuries masquerading as someone else to feel I was validated as an individual.”

“But—”

He held up that hand to stop Swerve. “I am improving, but beyond that, I will not discuss my progress at this time. My point is: what about you?”

“Me?”

“What will you do to move toward a healthier view of yourself?”

“Well, I, uh, I guess I’ll go back to work, and uh, spend more time with my—” When had his visor started fizzling? “My—my friends, and wow, isn’t it—isn’t it weird how that didn’t sink in ‘til now and I still can’t believe they’re really—that they actually—” He choked on the words. All that came from his vocalizer was a sob, then another, and another. There went his cool. He struggled to take back control of himself, he couldn’t—he just—he couldn’t quite—

“Swerve. Look at me. Focus. Please.”

Swerve rebooted his visor, still shaking. Magnus’ face swam into view, much closer than before, and he sobbed anew at the sight of his concerned expression.

“You need to set up an appointment with Rung,” Magnus said quietly. “We have much to discuss, but I need to know that you are in a stable condition first.”

“Much to—about what?”

Magnus gently rested a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Talk to Rung first. I do not wish to complicate your recovery.”

“Complicate it how?” Yeesh, Mags, cryptic much?

“Your curiosity is endearing, but your wellbeing is more important.”

He was endearing? Swerve shoved his flicker of hope deep, deep down. The important thing was that he knew—he knew Magnus cared. As the SIC turned toward the door, Swerve couldn’t help speaking up again.

“Hey, Mags—are we friends? Is that what this is?”

Magnus stopped and turned back to look at him. That gorgeous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth ever so slightly, and Swerve felt like he could melt.

“I suppose we are,” it clearly took a little effort to say the word, “friends.”

Swerve beamed back at him. “Thanks, Magnus.”


	4. When baking

Minimus had never heard the bar so quiet.

To be fair, no one was present at this time of the cycle save himself and the bartender, but even Swerve’s chatter had been toned down to the occasional statement as he busied himself experimenting with energon jellies. “No better way to reclaim the place before opening again,” as he had said.

Minimus had to agree. This companionable atmosphere was more conducive to paperwork than he would have expected.

Swerve nudged another sample plate in front of his datapad.

“Tell me what you think,” he requested.

Minimus selected the nearest treat and carefully nibbled at one corner. “Hm.”

Swerve’s visor flared brighter. “Well? I remembered how you liked the sweeter ones if they weren’t too much, so I tried to tone it down a bit this time. And the aluminum flakes were supposed to give it a little zing, but I’m not sure it’s the right note.”

Minimus finished the treat and wiped his fingers off with the rag Swerve had set aside for him. He hummed again, mulling over the flavor.

Swerve made a stifled noise that Minimus’ processor filed under “impatient,” and he felt his facial insignia twitch with the effort of not smiling. “It’s delightful, Swerve.”

A rush of something warm washed through his very core. He’d waited and observed for so long, and they were ready. He hoped. Minimus summoned every ounce of boldness he had tucked away.

As Swerve reached for the sampler, he set his small green hand over the larger red one. “As are you.”

Swerve’s visor reset.

“Are you—are you saying…” He trailed off, mouth opening and shutting.

“If you would be amenable,” Minimus replied, “might we consider this a first...date?”

Swerve swallowed thickly. “I. Um. I’d like that.” He turned his hand over. Minimus marveled at the way their fingers interwove.

They’d come this far independent of each other. Now they could continue the journey together.


End file.
